FFVIII ficlet collection
by Yati
Summary: I just realised that if I posted every single ficlet I had written, I'd have way too many of them here. So here's a collection of them. Mostly gen, mostly for prompts at LJ.
1. be indomitable, o my heart

The problem with Laguna Loire is that you are too used to his goofiness. You don't expect him to come up with bright ideas and brilliant strategies. You don't expect him to be able to handle even the easiest of tasks, such as watching over a little girl as she sleeps, because he's bound to bump into something and cause the whole place to crash to the ground, and of course wake Ellone along the way as he does so.

The most you can expect of him is for him to bumble along, fix everything just by the sheer magic of his optimism, and go along his merry way.

You don't expect him to stay.

He's a wandering soul, that's what Laguna is. He wouldn't stay here in quiet, sleepy Winhill, now that his friend Kiros has found him and new adventures beckon. He's going to leave, and Ellone will miss him (and maybe you will miss him too) but you've always known that, so of course you wouldn't stop the silly man from leaving the village, even when you know he was bound to get himself hurt again, sooner or later.

You'd bet on sooner. You know Kiros would agree on that. Maybe even Ellone would agree on that.

So you stare out of the window at the darkening landscape and the rising moon and wonder why he wants to meet you in the fields just outside town tonight.


	2. here we are

She was sitting on a precipice jutting out of the clock tower for no other reason than to watch the stars drift across the sky. They moved along with the night and faded with daybreak, and that was how she thought she felt right now: there but not quite.

She was a sorceress and she was the princess of a ragtag rebel group. She had lived a thousand lifetimes and she was just a scared little girl, lost outside of Time.

She wanted to find her way home but she couldn't, because there were promises that she never had the chance to make.

She sat there, legs dangling over the clouds, trying to remember what it was she had forgotten.


	3. things you've never seen

"And of course the stupid jeep has to break down here, of all places," Zell grumbled as he poked underneath the hood. He nodded and Irvine tried starting the jeep again, and it _did_ start, only to sputter and die a few seconds later. Zell slammed his fist into the engine, his frustration evident.

"That's not going to fix it," Squall said, not looking particularly alarmed that his team-mate might cause further damage the the vehicle. Squall might have faith in Zell's fixing techniques, but Irvine privately thought that shooting the engine would probably give them the same end result.

He opened the door and shook his head. "We're in the middle of nowhere, Squall."

Selphie spoke up from where she was sitting on the grass. "We're to the south of Galbadia, approximately sixty kilometres from a town called Winhill. It isn't exactly the middle of nowhere."

"Sefie . . ."

"Irvyyyy . . ."

"Cut it out, you two," Zell snapped. He pushed the hood shut, a streak of black oil marring his tattoo. "I think something's loose. One of the bolts fell off. And we don't have spares."

". . ."

"So we're just waiting here until Quisty and Rinoa come for us with the Ragnarok, huh?" Selphie asked, looking rather forlorn. "This is a stupid mission, really. Why did we have to drive again?"

"I don't think Zell could fix the Ragnarok by just hitting it," Irvine quipped. "It's better off being serviced in Esthar, you know."

Zell twitched. "Tch. I bet I could."

"I'd rather if you didn't," Irvine shot back.

"It's all your fault, Irvy! If you had chosen the yellow car I wanted--"

"That car would've broken down before we even got out of town, sunshine."

"--we probably could be relaxing in the hotel right now!"

"Pub," Squall said absently. Everyone turned to stare at him. "Winhill doesn't have a hotel."

Zell opened his mouth to say something and snapped it shut after a few seconds. ". . . Yes, sir." Probably trying to imagine Squall in a pub and failing. Irvine could sympathise with that.

Selphie shaded her eyes and looked at the sky. "It's going to be dark soon. I really don't like fighting monsters in the dark."

Irvine glanced at Squall, who didn't seem to be bothered by the idea. "We don't have much choice."

"It would be nice if Balamb Garden could just land here and pick us up," Selphie said.

"Huh, pigs will fly first," Zell said. "No way Nida can land anywhere near here."

Selphie blinked. "How about cows?"

"Huh?"

"A flying saucer carrying a cow just flew over us."

". . ."

"That's something you don't see every day," Irvine said, his eyes sweeping over the horizon. Zell had gotten over looking puzzled and was now guffawing over Selphie's shrill protests.

"I'm not kidding!"

"A flying saucer? Like we were gonna fall for that!"

Irvine glanced at Squall again. Their commander didn't seem to get the joke---he was scanning the sky intently. "So what do we put in the report?" he asked, grinning.

". . . An unidentified flying object, carrying what appeared to be a cow, flew over the Winhill Bluffs."

Irvine couldn't help his own slack-jawed look of surprise. Zell gaped at them. Selphie crossed her arms and gave them a smug smile. "Seriously?" Irvine said with a weak laugh. Squall simply_looked_ at him. "All right, all right! We believe you guys."

Squall shrugged. "About making camp tonight . . ." His eyes strayed to the left and he was reaching for his gunblade even before Irvine realised what was going on. "Selphie, move out of the way!"

Selphie ducked instinctively and Irvine saw a Geezard try to claw at her even as she yelped and reached out for her nunchakus. He fired at it, effective killing it with a blow dead-centre between its eyes, a few milliseconds before Squall slashed it open with his blade. A few nuts, bolts and screws fell from the creature's innards, and Irvine raised his eyebrows.

"Well, that solves our problems, don't you think?"

Selphie wrinkled her nose. "Ewww."

Zell toed at the junk, looking somewhat mystified. "Tch. No one's gonna believe the mission report: _Spotted a UFO carrying a cow. Saved from spending a night on the plains by a Geezard._ Cid's gonna think it's one big joke and Xu's gonna think we're completely outta our minds."

Selphie waved the comment away. "I _know_ she already thinks that, so I guess we're pretty safe. What I want to know is what a Geezard is doing this far south." She pondered that for a moment before adding, "And what it ate for lunch and what it wanted for dinner."

"Scrap metal and parts and shiny things Zell dropped along the way?" Irvine suggested. "Maybe it followed us from Galbadia. Maybe it wanted to eat the jeep."

"Maybe it wanted to eat your _rifle_," came Zell's retort.

"Maybe its still-living friends eat SeeDs wandering in the dark in the Winhill bluffs," Squall said mildly. Zell froze for a moment and yanked open the jeep's hood again. Selphie blinked, crept closer to the vehicle, and started mumbling magical incantations under her breath. Irvine found himself reloading his weapon.

Sometimes Irvine forgot Squall knew more words than just "whatever".


	4. the woes of my heart having glimpsed you

He has glimpsed her beauty and he is shaken by it. She is dressed in darkness and majesty and glory, all draped around her like an aura of such familiarity. Did she like black before? He couldn't quite remember, but he knows there are more colours in their world of his memories than just black and white. Her hair is a curtain of midnight falling from her headdress. He remembers the sway of her hair as the sea breeze blew in, and the smell of lilacs and the flutter of petals, and flowers everywhere in the small house by the sea and a lot of laughter and a lot of love—

_lowlifes. shameless filthy wretches. how you celebrate_

—and her laughter now grates against his already high-strung nerves. She raises her hand and her fingers are talons, tapered and sleek, and power danced at her fingertips at each simple move, at each careless gesture. Her palm—

_was cool as she traced his knee, the cut tingling as the magic dissipated.  
Now, now. It doesn't hurt any more, does it?  
She kisses his forehead, a promise that everything will be all right and he looks up at her and_—

she is looking at him, and her eyes are golden, like the colour of the sea and the sky when the sun sets and it's reflected just right. Her lips are parted, yet he couldn't hear her voice, but he knows it's (supposed to be) gentle and comforting and familiar, because he hears her in his head, telling him things about kindness and chivalry and love.

His gun feels too heavy in his grasp. His heart is pounding, a constant thumping in his ears like the sound of waves crashing against shore as the storm creeps in, drowning everything else, everyone else, until nothing remained but her.

She smiles at him, a small curl of her red, red lips, a hint of a secret for him alone. She is beauty and grace: she is everything he remembers and more.

He pulls the trigger, because she is everything he remembers and more.


End file.
